Ringo gets hurt
by Ringoisamazing
Summary: After learning that Ringo has been constantly abused as a child, The Beatles try to help and comfort Ringo. Starrison ensues.
1. Chapter 1

I do not own any characters, including The Beatles. They own themselves.  
>Review my story please!<p>

Paul's POV

The lads and I had just gone out for lunch, at this wonderful cafe nearby.

It was just me, John, and George at the cafe. Ringo had stayed behind, saying that he wanted to work on his new drum solo for the new song John and I wrote. We said our goodbyes to him, and then we were off.

Now, however we were back, and we were nearing the door to his practice room, to tell him that we had returned. While John and George were still joking around and laughing, I heard a small whimper.

I immediately shushed the two of them. "Shhh...guys...do you hear that?" I ask them.

Then came a small sob. I whip my head around to see George's eyes widen with fear and concern. "What was that?" John asked, a crease forming in between his eyebrows. "More like, who was that." I mumble under my breath.  
>"The sobs became louder, and I opened the door as fast as I could. There, laying on the ground with his arms and legs tied, was Ringo.<p>

"Ringo!" we exclaim.

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	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Review it up!**

**John POV: **

I just stood there, shaking like a leaf. The first thought that comes to my head was, "Who did this?" So that's exactly what I ask Ringo. "Rings, who did this to you?"

Ringo is sitting there bawling his eyes out, after we removed all the ropes and the gag over his mouth. Paul looks like he is on the verge of tears. George has gone pale white, his eyes as big as saucers.

George puts one of his arms over Ringo's shoulders and pulls him close. "Rings..?" I ask again, but this time my voice is about a million times gentler. George just holds Ringo closer. "Ritchie, you're fine, I have you, you're fine," George mutters to Ringo.

This seems a little odd, so I glance at Paul. Paul is dabbing at his eyes with a handkerchief. I notice something on Ringo's arm, so I nudge his shoulder. He turns away from George, and looks at me with his large, sad blue eyes. They are pinkish around the edges from crying.

Where he was crying on George, there is a large wet spot. George isn't too fazed by this, from the looks of it. I tear my gaze from George back to Ringo.

Once again, I notice something on his arm. A bruise. I try not to yell this out, but I take Ringo's arm in my hand, and sowly turn over the area of his arm with the bruise on it. Sterner than I meant to, I growl, "Who the hell did this to you, Ringo?" Ringo takes a deep breath before answering me.

"My father."

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	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Please review! :) **

**George POV: **

The moment that Ringo said that his father did this to him, I felt a white hot surge of anger rush through me. Some of this must have shown because John promptly asked, "Woah. You alright there, Geo?" I nod halfheartedly, clenching my jaw.

I still can't believe that his own father would do this to him. A father is supposed to protect his child from harm, not be the cause of the child's harm.

I turn my glance to Ringo, and I see him crying, his beautiful face in his hands. _Wait. Did I just think of his face as beautiful? I'm not a queer. Am I? _Before I have any time to dwell on this thought, Ringo makes a noise, so helpless and weak, more of a whimper actually. I lift his face out of his hands, and embrace him, yet again.

I think he actually starts to drift off, but then I think of something that makes me feel like I have been struck by lightning. _Did Ringo have to deal with this for his entire childhood?_ The thought seems ridiculous, but it scares me.Tapping his shoulder, I ask him, "Ritchie...did you have to deal with this for your entire childhood?"

I turn his face to look him directly in the eyes. There is a sadness in his deep blue eyes, that I have never noticed, usually covered up by his signature smile and happy personality. "Yes. I did. And it was awful." His voice cracking on the last word, he buries his face in the crook of my neck.

I want him to be able to sleep, to forget about this night for a few hours. "If I fell in love with you, would you promise to be true," I lull. I sing to him until his soft snores fill the room.

Up until now, I forgot about Paul and John being in the same room as Ringo and I, until Paul covers us both in a blanket. "G'night, you two." Paul whispers as he and John stand up to leave the room. "Night, Paul." I whisper back.

I hug Ringo closer to me, and say, "Rings, I love you." I swear I can see a small smile on his face, and I sigh, and then fall asleep. I sleep better than I have in months.

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	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I would like to thank everyone who is reading and reviewing my story. Thank you all so much for the continued support and love. Without further ado, here is Chapter 4.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Beatles, they own themselves. Okay? Okay. **

**George's POV:**

It was early the next day when I woke up. I noticed that Ringo's cheeks were a bit pink, but then I saw that I was literally holding him.

_Holding him. Smooth, Geo. _Not wanting to wake him up, I slowly removed my arms from where I was holding him.

I went to the kitchen and started to make myself some tea, and then I went to the sitting room once again, and turned the telly on to a really low volume.

"Blah...blah...blah...news," I mutter to myself. I drain my cup of tea, and trudge back to the kitchen to stick my cup in the sink.

"I'll leave Paul to take care of that." I mumble, grinning. I hear Ringo turn and mumble in his sleep. Before I have time to get back to the sitting room, I hear him yell.

Paul and John rush to the room, mop tops a mess. "What-What happened?!" Paul stutters. "Ya think I know?" I ask.

By now, Ringo is screaming and thrashing around frantically, under the influence of a nightmare.

"Wake him up before he hurts himself, ya daft git!" John yells, grabbing a glass of water. Splashing the water right into his face, Ringo wakes up, gasping, his face contorted like he is on the verge of tears.

Ringo takes a few deep breaths to calm himself down. This doesn't work, and he launches himself onto Paul and John.

Paul, his mouth gaping, wraps his arms around Ringo and pulls him close. John mutters something in Ringo's ear, and rubs his back soothingly.

I join the group hug, enveloping them all.

This is The Beatles.

Yes, we make music, but at the end of the day, we are all brothers.


End file.
